


Mobster Tango

by phoenixjustice



Series: Marcone/Harry Crossover-verse [1]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixjustice/pseuds/phoenixjustice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-TDK, sometime during the TDF books.</p><p>"So I might have accidentally set his tie on fire. Possibly. Maybe."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mobster Tango

Disclaimer: TDK, Batman and all related products belong to DC. The Dresden Files belong to Jim Butcher. I only own this story and make no profit from this.

: :: :

Of course I had heard about the infamous Batman and the even more infamous Joker. Who hadn't? Their exploits were world famous, though some for different reasons. I had also heard some odd rumors about them recently. Most folk, most _sane_ folk, tended to avoid Gotham, if necessary. Even without all the new villains in the city, who were also hunted by a masked vigilante, the city was a dark one, and had been run by mobsters and the like for as long as people, mortals anyway, could remember.

I had seen, and heard of, many worse things than things in Gotham. But that was at a mystical level. When it came to the mortal realm and its darkest points, Gotham city was one of them. So I, of course, had to go there.

A murder of one Victor Falcone, cousin to a top mobster in Chicago, Sofia Falcone--daughter of the Roman--and an big name in the Mob world in Gotham in his own right, had been murdered. Although it happened in Chicago, Victor was from Gotham, and therefor, Gotham PD had come to Chicago a few days past, led by Commissioner Jim Gordon himself. From all I had heard, he was a genuinely good man, a sadly rare commodity nowadays. Something about Falcone's death had been...off, as in the kind of off where it was sent to the SI unit, with one Karrin Murphy in charge of said unit, and the one who met with Gordon when he arrived in Chicago with a few of his men.

Although I had heard of good things about the commissioner, I was also curious to see how he would react to someone like Murphy--all of 5 foot nothing, short blonde hair and a pixie face, petite, her looks not alluding to the fact that she could kick ass with the best of them, if not better. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately--always hard to say just which it could be) for me, I wasn't allowed on their meeting; I _was_ allowed in the room with the other Gotham and Chicago PD as they waited around for their various bosses, and even if I hadn't been what I was, I would have easily have noticed the stares at myself--in my western style shirt, blue jeans, boots and trademark duster, my mother's silver pentagram around my neck and my shield bracelet around my wrist. But I think it was my magic stick which drew the most attention.

No, not that kind of magic stick, you pervert. Get your mind out of the gutter will you? No, I'm talking about my blasting rod...okay that doesn't sound too much better either. Anyway, it's got runes carved into it and must have freaked a few of the guys out, because they made various cross signs over their chests. I tried not to be too offended. I was more than used to the extremes--either deep skepticism at what I do or afraid of what I can do.

The reason I was allowed there, was a simple one; this murder had all the makings of having to do with something... _odd_. And those kinds of things were right up my alley. Although Murphy had been making a lot of progress (and easily outlasting any previous head of SI) there were still things (many, _many_ things) that she had no knowledge of and which I did--some of which I hoped she'd never learn of and wish that I didn't know.

After some time, Murphy and Gordon come out of her office, both looking grim, but determined. Gordon grabs his men and leaves, sparing a small glance at me, leaving me to hastily avert my eyes so I wouldn't inadvertently soulgaze with him; I didn't want to look into his soul, no matter how good he might be, and I _definitely_ didn't want him to look into mine. I imagine it'd strip away a bit of that remaining good cop mentality he had.

I stood there for a few moments, feeling a little foolish, as Murphy spoke quietly to her men. They dispersed and she comes over to stand in front of me, managing to look into my face intently without actually looking directly into my eyes. Not many could pull that off, but Murphy could. I braced myself for all the things that she could possibly say, or the things she couldn't. But all she said was--

"Pack your bags, Dresden and haul ass to Gotham ASAP."

~*~

"E-Excuse me?" I said rather stupidly, staring at her as I held my blasting rod in one hand, shield bracelet jangling against it. Damn. If this is all I could respond with lately, maybe I needed to work on some mental exercises as well as physical ones. Me Harry. Me smart. Me blast you with my magic stick. Geez.

"You heard me. " said Murphy. "You agreed to help me on this case, Harry."

I did, but-- "Why Gotham? Surely they have enough men over there to--"

"They have plenty of uniformed guys," said Murphy, pushing back some hair off her forehead impatiently. "But they don't have anyone like _you_. I need you to head down there and see what you can dig up--I expect you'll find more there, especially since that's where Falcone comes from originally."

She was probably right. I had already done a few things here and there, but I had run out of ideas and going to Gotham would surely put me back on the right trail. And it was either that or try my luck and ask Gentleman Johnny Marcone if he knew anything. He probably did, or knew someone who did, or could find someone who did, but I _really_ didn't want to go that route. I didn't like being in debt to anyone (I was already ass deep in it already, what with Mab and my godmother and all) but I especially didn't want to be in _his_ debt.

I sigh. "Fine. I'll figure out the quickest way over there and I'll see what I can do."

She nods. "Thanks Harry."

She had saved my life enough times that the words "No problem, Murph."came easily enough.

Now I just had to figure out how to get to Gotham.

~*~

That might sound rather easy, but when you're a wizard, it can actually be a rather complicated task. Electronics made after World War II tended to spark or fry around wizards--especially me. It's why I had nothing electronic in my basement apartment. I didn't want to fall asleep one night and wake up to a burning building.

I made my way back to the Blue Beetle, my VW car. Technically it wasn't merely blue anymore; many scrapes and adventures (to call them lightly) I had been in, had left many of the parts replaced; a white hood, as well as a green and red door respectively. But the name Blue Beetle stuck, and sounded much better than "Multi-hued Beetle" or something equally stupid.

I got a good glimpse of the night sky as I opened up my car door--I didn't bother locking it, no one would bother to steal it, I mean, a fricking car thief once offered up a price for a better car--it looked pretty nice out for once, the stars twinkling in the sky without the veil of smog and the like covering them up. It felt rather good to just be able to stand and admire something for awhile. My own life had been so crazy over the past few years that to just be able to stand out in the open and enjoy the fresh air was a blessing all on its own.

First that wanna-be warlock, then the loup-garou, the vampires of the Red Court, losing Susan, meeting Thomas, all the Summer and Winter Court business, not to mention demons, wizards out to see I paid for something which I didn't do--yes, I'm looking at you Morgan. I think he just needs to get out more, find a nice lady--or lad--and release a little built-up tension...okay, rewind. Stop being so focused on Morgan and his sex life, or lackthereof. Learning Thomas was my brother, nearly dying so many times, making new friends like Billy and the other Werewolves, and so many other things that it was enough to make any person's head spin.

I get into the Beetle and start it up, taking off without incident, thankful that the Beetle had been repaired again fairly recently. I'd have to start paying Mike overtime at this rate, even if I couldn't really afford it. I made my way through the fairly busy traffic and on my way back to my apartment. In the least, I could ponder over a few ideas with Bob or something and figure something out. I turn off the Beetle as I get to my apartment. No monster sized car in sight, which meant that Thomas was still away. Although I had never really noticed my own solitude before (us wizards tend to like that sort of thing, after all) I noticed it very keenly now--all my half-brother's fault, of course. I had liked to complain about him being there sometimes, and some of the stuff he did, his antics and the like, but now that he had moved out, I felt...lonely, and I hated that I noticed it.

So I pushed aside all those thoughts that I could and headed to my door, unlocking it and undoing enough of the magical wards on it long enough so I could get inside. Mister comes darting past me out of nowhere and into the apartment, nearly knocking me down, but I was well used to his antics by now. Mouse comes thundering out of the bedroom to greet me. He was my giant of a dog--whose name definitely didn't reflect his size. But that was the joke.

I pet Mouse briefly, before locking my steel-reinforced door (hey, after getting involved in a battle with a friggin _demon_ , it was a case of better safe than eviserated into a puddle of goo (at best.) After setting aside my duster, wizard's staff and blasting rod, I give Mouse and Mister some fresh food and water, before moving aside one of the rugs--mismatched, as were my secondhand furniture. I open up the trapdoor that led to the subbasement, which served as my laboratory.

Tables ran around in a U shape, leaving only a bit of room, a space was left for my Circle however. Shelves filled with various bobs and ends filled plastic containers. The only really bare shelf was one toward the back of the room, stacked along with a few candles that were now merely nubs, romance novels and a few various female things, was a skull. I tap it a few times.

"Wake up, Bob. There's work to be done." I say. Twin orange lights flicker on inside the skull. Bob wasn't really a skull--he was a spirit, but the skull was used as a kind of container for him. He was a living computer--better than. He knew a little bit of just about everything.

"So what is it this time, Harry?" Yawned Bob, somehow managing to make the gesture look believable.

"I got myself wrangled up in Murphy's investigation, so now I need to figure a way to get to Gotham in the least destructive way possible. The fewer the bodies, the better."

"Ah," said Bob sagely. "I can see the problem. You could take a plane, but--"

"In the air filled with all that equipment would be the equivilent of suicide, so yeah, that's a no go. I mean, I _do_ have that potion to keep electronics in check, but it was for smaller scale. I mean, I had bad enough trouble on the _Larry Fowler Show_ , I can only imagine what would happen 15,000 feet into the air--"

"I can see the headlines now," Bob said drily. "But yes, I can see your dilemma. Why not just do the potion and then snooze the rest of the way?"

~*~

I went upstairs, and, unable to think of anyone else (I did _not_ want to involve any other wizard's in my affairs--I'm sure Morgan would all but salivate with glee should I take one misstep, however small. I had no doubt that if another wizard worked with me on it, Morgan would be hovering around me like nobody's business) I called Billy. And got the voicemail, which told me that he would be out of town for the next few days with his friends.

Well hell. Talk about bad luck.

I also try and call Thomas. Another voicemail. Shit. It was like some kind of conspiracy or something. I sigh loudly and call the one number left to me.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"I must confess myself surprised at your sudden late night call, Mr. Dresden." Gentleman Johnny Marcone, looking completely immaculate and handsome (anyone would have said so--don't look at me like that!)in his white suit, which probably cost more than a year's worth of my rent, looked over at me.

His hair was combed back and he looked refreshed--far from a man who had been woken up after two a.m and pulled out of bed, which, admittedly, he didn't have to do. He didn't have to answer my call, he definitely didn't have to drive (or rather, get driven) all the way down here.

And he surely didn't have to offer to use his own personal jet, either.

We step into his jet and I look around, feeling more than a bit uncomfortable. Not really because I was flying alone with Marcone, (though that too crossed my mind) but of all the mishaps I could see happening, spell or not. Before I had left the apartment, I had Bob give me the recipe to a potion and luckily for me it could be brewed quickly and done in a short amount of time. I had smelled it as I put it into a sports-bottle and I was _not_ looking forward to drinking it.

The door closes with a loud thump behind me, making me jump a little. I could hear Marcone chuckling behind me. Great, Harry. Jump around at every noise like a frightened little schoolgirl. You're _sure_ to impress one of the world's greatest mobsters like that. ...Wait. I didn't want to impress _anybody_ , and _especially_ not Johnny Marcone.

I obviously hadn't been getting enough sleep lately. Definitely. That _had_ to be it.

Marcone walks around me, still chuckling ever so faintly and takes a seat in one of the beige-ish colored seats, which looked more than comfortable. The interior of the jet was rather large, considering. A black curtain toward the front divided the cockpit of the vehicle from the main part. There were four seats in all, two on either side and one chair facing the one in front of it, with two smallish tables in between the seats. A television set was made into a set of cabinets and the like on the right. Thankfully it was off. I didn't want to wake up to bits of television flying into me as it spontaniously combusted or something. I didn't doubt that could happen, at least when I was around.

"Have a seat, Mister Dresden," said Marcone, glancing up at me from one of the chairs on the left that faced towards me, gesturing at the chair opposite him. "I doubt you'll get any sort of rest by standing, unless it's some sort of wizarding technique I don't know about."

Hells Bells, did Marcone just make a _joke_? At _me_? Not that I thought him incapable of humor, but somehow it managed to surprise the hell out of me. Marcone raised an eyebrow at me. I hurry over and take a seat, crossing my legs and putting on as composed face as I could. I didn't want him to see that he could affect me, however small.

We both buckle in as the pilot steps on board, and I was a little surprised to see that it was Hendricks, Marcone's personal bodyguard. Apparently the red-haired linebacker of a man had many talents, or many uses. No wonder Marcone kept him close at hand. A moment later, Hendricks was up front and I grab the sports bottle out of my duster pocket; the potion I had made earlier for this occasion. I open it up and sniff it, recoiling slightly as I do so. I could see Marcone wrinkling his nose in distaste. Well it _did_ smell damned awful, so I couldn't blame him. And at least _he w_ asn't the one who had to drink it!

I close my eyes and start to drink the concoction down, nearly gagging a few times as I do so--the stench of the potion mixed with the taste made it hard to keep from throwing it back up. Why couldn't the useful potions ever taste _nice_? At least a little less like moldy gym socks and more of something else. Finally the ordeal was over and even before I finish the last drop I could feel the potion's effect working through my body, helping to limit the effects I had on electronics.

I open my eyes and set the bottle on the table in front of me. Marcone looks at me. "Does that taste as bad as it smells?"

"Worse." I say.

Marcone grimaces slightly. Hendrick's voice suddenly sounds on the intercom, saying that we were about to take off. I let out a few breaths, trying to calm myself down as much as possible. Although the potion would help, it wasn't a fool-proof; it would aid in keeping electronic mishaps down to a minimum, but it was still up to me to stay calm and keep the jet from blowing up.

I close my eyes as we take off, moving in the seat slightly. It was pretty comfortable, so I didn't have to move around much to get a good position to sit in. It was silent for a few minutes, though I had half expected Marcone to ask me more than a few questions before we even took off. Finally the silence gets broken.

"How long does the Lieutenant want you in Gotham City?" asked Marcone, making me open my eyes to glance at him. He looked the picture of calm and composure, one leg casually crossed over the other, eyes the color of dollar bills looking at me.

"I thought you didn't--"

Marcone merely waves a hand. "I didn't say I didn't know why you were going; I am just a little surprised that you called _me_ up to get there, and not your Knight friends or someone like that. That you would _trust_ me, especially when we are so far in the air and it is just us... _alone_."

Something in his face makes me gulp slightly, so I turn away from his gaze--we had soulgazed before, so he could look into my eyes--and speak over my sudden nervousness. Nervousness could be just as bad as other emotions when it came to electronic mishap.

"She didn't give any sort of time frame. I do consultant work for her, I'm not a subordinate." I say, looking back at him, feeling a bit annoyed. He knew just what I did, so why would he...unless...he wanted to make _small talk_ , with _me._ I felt many shades of confused.

A smile graces his handsome face. "Of course."

I blink and glance away from him again. My heart starts to pound a little quickly all of a sudden and I hate not understanding what was going on. A thought hits me.

"Did you know Victor Falcone?"

I chance another glance at him, but I couldn't see anything in his face that would give anything away.

"Not personally, no."

Gentleman Johnny Marcone was the top mobster in Chicago, not only that, but one of the top mobsters _period_. I still remembered the mob war from a year or so ago in which he and Sofia Falcone fought over territory rights; both had lost a fair few men (and women too, I supposed) but Marcone had, of course, come out the victor. Falcone had left for Gotham soon after, though I heard that she still ran a few things in Chicago.

"Though you're well acquainted with his cousin Sofia."

Silence. I took it as a yes. I blink a few times, feeling the effects of the potion start to work on me further--there was sleeping draught mixed in with it.

It must have been the sleeping potion working its magic (what a pun, I know) on me, because I say, sleepily (and probably stupidly as well);

"Will you help me get in with Gotham's underworld?"

As my eyes start to flutter close, I could see Marcone's face, smiling widely at me, leaning forward slightly.

"Goodnight, Harry."

I try to say that wasn't a response, but I felt the potion's pull over me and I fall deeply asleep.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

I wake up briefly, unaware of how much time had passed. My sleep filled eyes take in the sight of Marcone, now standing and pacing the length of the jet, appearing deep in thought. I fall back asleep.

I wake up again and notice Marcone over by the television set, watching intently. I could make out the words "...socialite Bruce Wayne to head up the newest fundraiser tonight. Sources have seen the billionaire out with, not a plethora of women as we have seen the past few months, but a man. Information about this man are sparce. The name of the man have been suggested to be Jack, but no other names have been discovered as of yet." I fall back asleep.

I wake up once more, eyes feeling heavy. My sleep-filled brain happens to notice a few things; one, Marcone was sitting back in his chair in front of me. Two, he had (or Hendricks had) apparently moved the small table in front of us aside. And three, he was staring right at me. It could be a little unnerving at best--those piercing looks from his dollar bill eyes. But this time was...it felt different, rang differently than before.

"John?" I say sleepily.

He leans forward. With the table out of the way, he could lean forward in the seat far enough to where he could reach me.

"I thought I told you not to call me that."

"Only fair. You called me by _my_ name." I murmur.

I could see a smile grace his face and my heart stutters in my chest, watching as he grabs my chin in his tanned hand. Sleep starts to leave a little quicker now as my eyes widen, a realization smacking me in the face.

I... _liked_ him. I liked Gentleman Johnny Marcone, one of the biggest mobsters there _was._ I _liked_ him.

Hells bells.

"Too true, Harry. Too true." And with that, he closes that final distance between us, and kisses me hard on the mouth.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The plane touches down awhile later and we emerge more or less unscathed. There were no electrical casulties to mention, but me and John both looked like we had emerged from a fight with a tornado, clothes askew, hair tousled. Well, okay both of us had looked that way, but apparently he had fixed himself up in the two minutes it took me to get all my things together and er...recover.

I glance at him as we step out of the jet; yes, he looked quite put together now and the smirk I get as he notices me looking only makes me blush even further than I already was. Oh boy, what the hell had I gotten myself into? It was one thing to make nice with a mobster, or in the very least, be on speaking terms and occasionally help each other out in case of apocalypses, evil demons and corrupt humans. But to sleep with said mobster...

I sigh and shake my head.

If he even _dared_ mention anything about "the mile high club" or anything like that, I'd torch him a new ass, I swore it.

"Is there something wrong, _Mister Dresden_?" Marcone's smirk widens. I shake off the sudden urge to giggle.

I put on a blank face, smiling blandly. "Not at all _Mister Marcone_. Did your tie survive the second go around or did I imagine those torn up pieces?"

I see the remains of what used to be his (probably thousands of dollars) tie sticking out of his suit pocket. Sometime during the second go around, we had both ended up in a tangled heap on the floor and I _might_ have accidentally set his tie on fire. Who knows. But probably not. Maybe.

There was a limo waiting for us as we leave the airstrip. A man I didn't recognize was waiting at the back door, an older gentleman with a distinguished face and gray and white hair.

"Good evening, Mister Marcone. Master Wayne heard you were arriving and wanted to offer his services during your stay in Gotham." The man spoke with a British accent. Apparently he worked for Bruce Wayne, and that helped me remember who the man was; Alfred, the billionaire's butler.

"It's nice to see such hospitality," remarked Marcone. He glances at me. "This is Harry Dresden. I assume you've heard of him?"

I had half expected the man to scoff at hearing who I was--most people didn't believe in what I did or things I went after. Most people would rather have their heads in the sand, eyes closed to what was really out there, then see what was right in front of them. But he did nothing of the sort.

"Ah yes, the wizard. Master Wayne was looking forward to seeing you too, Mister Dresden."

Wayne already knew that we were arriving? He must have some big sources of his own...made me wonder if he had any ties to the mafia, Gotham or otherwise. He opens the door for us, and I step inside the limo a little self-consciously, not used to someone doing things for me. Marcone, of course, moved inside the limo flawlessly, apparently unaffected by anything around him. But as the man drove around in limo's pretty much daily and had a fortress of a house, I hadn't expected him to act any differently.

The door shuts and we soon take off. Although the windows were darkened to keep people from looking in, people inside could look out, which allowed me to get a good glimpse of Gotham city as we were driven into town. It was daylight by the time we arrived, somewhere during mid-afternoon, and the city didn't look as bleak as it did in the nighttime pictures of the city I had seen, but it still had the feel of darkness within it. I felt it like a small pressure at my back.

It was silent between us as we got driven into the city, but it wasn't an uncomfortable one.

The buildings were as large as the ones in Chicago, some larger. There were some architechtural similarities in a few of the buildings. The sun started to set as we arrived deeper into the city, where I noticed that we were heading toward a very large building, with a penthouse on top; must be Bruce Wayne's place.

"Unfortunately Wayne Manor isn't completed, but the Penthouse has plenty of room." said Alfred suddenly.

"Actually, Mister Dresden will not be accompanying us to the Penthouse--he'd like to be dropped off over on East 32nd street."

I start to speak but I stop as soon as I glance at Marcone. There must be something on that street--I had asked him if he'd help me get in with Gotham's underworld, and apparently he was. I close my mouth. I doubted that the street was in an area that was any sort of good, but all Alfred does is reply; "Of course."

The butler makes a sharp turn to the left, apparently about to go the other way, and heads down the street. I could see the differences of where we had been about to go, and where we were headed now. This was obviously part of the worst part of the city, which of course meant that's where the mobsters and the like were doing their operations.

"This part of the city is called the Narrows." murmured Marcone out of the blue. "It is a breeding ground for all sorts of...things. It would probably be the best place for you to start." He pulls something out of his pocket; it looked to be some sort of card. He writes something on it and hands it to me.

"If there is any trouble from any of those...people, just show that to them. Or their bosses."

He was going more out of his way to help me than I expected. Even after we had...done _that_. Fine, fine, I'll say it. _Sex_. Well I'm sorry that some of us are still a bit modest, especially when it comes to talking about sex with mobsters, who also happen to be men, and I didn't even know I _liked_ men...I mean, I had never thought about a couple different men before. How could I? Right?

"Thanks." I whisper.

He smiles that broad smile again, and I find my heart skipping a few beats, a'la like a little schoolgirl. We come to a halt and I take a look out the window for a moment before grabbing the handle and starting to open the door. I feel a sudden hand grab my wrist and I turn to see Marcone leaning forward, looking at me intently.

He yanks me forward and I let out a little noise before he pulls me close and kisses me. I close my eyes and kiss him back, less hesitant this time. He was _certainly_ thorough and knew what he was doing. I pull back, eyes opening and I feel my groin twitch as he pulls back, licking at his mouth, looking at me all the while and smirking.

"Uh...I'llseeyoulater."I mumble, fleeing into the outside. I close the door behind me and it takes off. It was about a minute later that I realized that I had absolutely no clue where to start from. Marcone had given me a hint, but no concrete address or anything. Hell.

I walk around aimlessly for a few moments, pondering my next move, a little thankful that I didn't run into any crazies. The street was surprisingly empty and quiet. That is, until I think that, then I hear some muffled groans and shouts. I hold onto my blasting rod tighter and run towards the source of the noise, duster flapping against me as I hurry down a side alley. I stop myself from heading around the corner, deciding to take a look and see what the situation was before I ran straight at it.

My eyes widen as I take in the sight of the infamous masked vigilante, Batman. Who was beating the hell out of some bad looking men. Some men just had that look about them. And although the Gotham PD said many things about Batman, I didn't get any sort of bad vibes from him. He felt... _dark_. But dark isn't the same thing as evil. No, there just seemed to be something like tragedy in his soul. Like something bad had happened to him. That was my impression anyway.

I also watch as another man comes around another side-alley up ahead (this Narrows place seemed to have a lot of them.) My eyes widen as I take in the make-up, the mismatch of colors of the clothing, the striped socks. And, of course, the knives in his hands. I start to take a step forward, gripping my blasting rod tightly, when I see the Joker go, not for Batman who had his back turned to the criminal, but the man next to the caped crusader.

What the hell?

It only took a couple of minutes, and all too soon, the men were incapacitated. I watch in a facinated kind of confusion as the Joker merely stands there while the Batman ties them all up to a lightpole before straightening up and pulls a cell phone out of somewhere. I could hear the man's gritty voice from where I stood.

"Yeah, I got them. There over here on East 31st. ...Yeah." He glances over at the Joker who was twirling around a knife in his hands, looking bored. "...No The Joker wasn't with them...yeah." He hangs up the phone.

The Joker raises a brow at him. "Ooh...Batsy's lying to the Commiss-hh--ioner." drawed Joker, smirking as he walked forward toward the Batman.

I couldn't see much of any expression on the masked man's face, but he didn't seem to be all that impressed. His fists clench. "That's none of your business, Joker. This is between you and me, not anyone else."

I could see the scars on the clown's face as the smirk on his face only widens. If I didn't think my eyes could have widened even further, I was wrong. They all about pop out of my head when the Joker gets pulled up against the vigilante's chest, both of them looking at each other for a long moment before Batman grabs onto Joker's chin harshly and kisses him.

What...what... _what_?!

What the hell? What the hell _was_ this? Get it on with your arch-nemesis day or something?

All I could do was stand there as I watch them; Joker whose eyes close, arms holding tightly to the masked man's armor clad arms, fingernails digging in deeply, but which Batman didn't appear to notice. One of the vigilante's hands moves to wrap around the criminal's waist, pulling him closer, kiss deepening.

I start to blush. I may have been hella confused about just why they were doing that (and didn't Batman work alone? He didn't seem to feel the need to start randomly blowing stuff up...) and everything, but I also knew that they looked...happy? together. I couldn't exactly throw stones--not when I had sex with my own sort of arch-nemesis. Three times.

"You can't think you can stop me this easily."

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I watch the pair of men pull away. Neither of them had said that. They turn, as do I, to the men who were tied up at the lightpole. The man in the middle (there was three of them) looks up at them. I start to take a step forward without realizing it, feeling the bad feeling intensify. I was having a bad feeling about this...

"And why couldn't a few two-bit lackeys be stopped?" sneered Joker.

"I'll rip the marrow from your bones," growled the...man? "I'll do worse to you than I did to that idiot Victor Falcone. He thought by summoning me that I would do whatever he wished? You insignificant humans are--"

Aha. Jackpot

My feet take off as soon as I take in the shifting of his face.

"You two! Get away!" I yell, running as fast as my long legs were able to.

He shoots a large glob of something black towards the Batman and Joker. I quickly gather energy and raise up my shield, standing near the vigilante and the criminal as the glob bounces off my shield and hits a building, instantly melting the parts of the brick that it touches. Oh goody, one of _those_ demons. I just had all the worse sort of bad luck.

He yanks away from the ropes that bound him to the pole and stands up, human form slowly melting away, and as it does, I realize that he was the man who had been taken by surprise by the Joker; it was probably the thing that saved them both earlier on. As the human form goes, leaving the creatures _true_ form--hunched body, crooked feet, leathery wings and curling horns (looking for all the world, like how people saw "the Devil") I could hear the Joker croak "What the _fuck_ is that thing?" behind me.

They, Joker and Batman, respectively, take a step forward and I could see the Joker pulling out his knives, and Batman grabbing something out of his Belt.

"It's a demon." I reply, watching as the demon straightens itself out, readying my own spell, focusing my energies as I prepared.

"Mmm...well, now you don't have to worry about your One Rule, Bats. This thing ain't human." He glances at me. "And just who the hell are you?"

"He's Harry Dresden." replied Batman.

"Ah, the wizard!" exclaimed Joker, laughing. "Mister Brucie Wayne was looking forward to meeting him...ain't that right, Batsy?"

The Batman doesn't reply, and I was too busy readying my power to notice the insinuation.

"That's why you killed Falcone?" I ask the demon. "Because he tried to summon you?"

"He _did_ summon me, human," said the demon, it's voice sounding low and gravelly. "And he tried to make me use my powers for him. _Him_. Insignificant beings all of you. Prepare yoursel--"

I didn't let it finish. I let loose the power I had gathered; I thrust my blasting rod forward, shouting " _Fuego_!" letting loose a blast of scarlet flames, which seemed to be an unconscious sort of signal, for Batman and the Joker run forward as soon as I do.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The demon was more than dead. Nice and crispy at that. The men that had been tied up to the pole had woken up during the battle and had run away crying like babies. Not that I blamed them. If _I_ had woken up to a ten foot tall demon barreling towards me, I might have done the same thing. I sigh, rubbing at my sore ankles, sitting on the ground with my blasting rod and staff besides me.

I watch as the vigilante helps up the criminal, trying not to look--but unable to help myself--as he kisses the Joker hard on the mouth. I swallow against my suddenly dry throat. They were enemies, yet they helped each other. They fought and yet...they seemed like they...

"Are you alright?" Batman asked Joker quietly.

"I'm fine, Bats. _You're_ the one that got thrown into that wall--"

... _loved_ one another.

The Joker sighs. "I guess we'll have to wait to fight until tomorrow."

They had a fucked up relationship. But who was I to throw stones?

I stand up, gathering my staff, tying it back into place and grabbing my blasting rod, walking over towards the pair.

"Well you guys just saved me days of searching." I say. "Thanks for the assist."

The Joker shrugs. "Don't think I make a habit out of it or anything," he sneers. "But I sure as hell didn't want to get toasted by that thing."

"No problem. I need to thank you for your aid as well," said Batman, apparently ignoring the Joker's statement. "If there's something you need--"

I wave a hand. "Nah, don't mention it." From where we all stood now, I could see the Batman's vehicle off a bit in the distance. "Well uh...you might be able to do for me. I uh, need to get to Bruce Wayne's fundraiser thing. My uh...someone's waiting for me."

Joker smirks. "Yeah, you wouldn't want to keep Johnny Marcone waiting for long, huh?" My eyes must have widened, because he starts snickering and laughing. "Don't worry though, heh, my "associate" Jonny-Jonny should be able to keep him company till we get there."

I raise an eyebrow. " _We_?"

The Joker's smirk widens. "Well yeah. I mean, Batsy wouldn't want to be late to _his own party_ now would h--"

Batman elbows the Joker hard in the stomach and the man doubles over, laughing even louder than before. I blink a few times as I take in what the criminal said. Batman had an easy reply.

"Shut up Joker."

Geez, and I thought _I_ had relationship issues.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

 


End file.
